


The Answer is Still...

by Moonrose91



Series: The Married Life of Clint Barton and Phil Coulson (as told by Clint Barton) [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Disrespect, Homophobia, M/M, SHIELD Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No," Phil stated.</p><p>"I haven't even asked yet," Clint responded.</p><p>"You're smiling wider then the Cheshire Cat after he's gotten a jug full of cream and a cage full of canaries. No," Phil retorted.</p><p>Clint pouted a little more, though internally he was giggling like an elementary school girl when presented with a fluffy kitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Answer is Still...

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this insults anyone, but...well, people are people.
> 
> And not all of them are going to be polite and respectful to the person who will grieve for them even if they die by their own stupidity.
> 
> Also, the homophobic views expressed in this fic are not the author's personal beliefs.

Clint rubbed his hands eagerly as he headed towards his husband’s office the boring way.

He needed to score as many good points as he could in Phil’s books if he wanted Phil to agree to this plan. Clint made his way easily through the people and opened up the door to Phil’s office, the dim room an oasis in a building filled with bright lights and angry people.

“Phil!” he greeted cheerfully, smiling widely.

"No," Phil stated.

Clint pouted as he answered, “I haven't even asked yet."

"You're smiling wider then the Cheshire Cat after he's gotten a jug full of cream and a cage full of canaries. No," Phil retorted.

Clint pouted a little more, though internally he was giggling like an elementary school girl when presented with a fluffy kitten. Ooooh! Pet talk.

He would have to pencil that in on this side of the year as opposed to the other. “You haven’t even heard my idea yet Phil! It might actually be an idea you would be onboard with!” Clint pleaded and Phil gave him a look.

“Clint, you’re smiling like _that_. The last time you smiled like that, you _shot_ a visiting dignitary,” Phil responded calmly.

“It was a Nerf gun dart!” Clint protested.

“You still shot him,” Phil continued and focused on the paperwork that was a constant enough to be considered decoration.

“Won’t you hear me out?” Clint asked and Phil let out a soft sigh.

“Yes. But the answer is still going to be no,” Phil answered.

“You don’t know that. And you might like it,” Clint retorted.

“I doubt that. _That_ smile _never_ bodes well for me,” Phil replied, but he set aside his pen and waited.

His eyes were warm, however, and Clint was practically bubbling with joy over this. He settled in his chair (it was his because Clint had written his name on it) and smiled. “I want to shoot your Cygnets,” Clint stated and the look Phil sent him could have made hot lava grow ice.

“What?” Phil demanded.

“With paintballs. I want to put them through sniper detection training, and I am the best. You said yourself that they haven’t got the teamwork thing down quite yet,” Clint continued and Phil continued to stare at him.

Clint could practically _feel_ the ice crystals clinging to his skin.

“You want to shoot them?”

“With paintballs.”

Phil stared at him awhile longer and then focused on his paperwork. “No,” Phil answered.

“What, why? You said yourself the teamwork thing isn’t working, and you’ve tried just about everything, and they need to go through sniper detection training anyway! Why?” Clint questioned, surprised by the blunt refusal.

Phil didn’t look up and Clint stared at the top of his head. “Phil?” he questioned softly.

“Not all the Cygnets, as you so affectionately call them, are like your group. Or the last one,” Phil responded quietly as he worked.

Clint’s head shifted to the side.

The Cygnets that had attended the wedding had passed with flying colors, the largest group to do so for a long time. A new one had been right on their heels and had ‘discovered’ Phil rather quickly. “What are you talking about?” Clint questioned.

The only answer was Phil’s pen scratching on the paperwork and Clint sighed. Phil looked up and answered, “I think it is a bad idea because some of the ‘Cygnets’ are a bit more…rowdy then the normal group. I can handle it, so don’t worry about that part. I just don’t want you getting snippy while you have a _gun_ in your hands and shooting them where you shouldn’t.”

Clint stared at him and huffed before crossing his arms. “Fine. Don’t get Jakes. He’s useless,” Clint stated.

“You think _everyone_ is within the sniper pool,” Phil responded and Clint merely beamed.

“Not Jakes,” Clint reiterated.

Phil smiled back, a quirk of the lips really, and replied, “I _promise_ I will not get Jakes to implement your plan.”

Clint beamed and stood up. He leaned over Phil’s desk, earning a raised eyebrow. “Clint, what are you doing?” Phil asked.

Clint grinned and gently grabbed the tie, slate gray. “I am going to be picking your suits and ties from now on. I will even pair them together so you don’t have to stand in front of me holding up ties with a sad face on,” Clint stated, carefully wrapping the tie around his hand so he had a firm grip on it.

“Clint, we agreed, not at wo-mmph!” Phil responded, but Clint cut him off by swooping down and kissing Phil deeply.

He tugged lightly on the tie, carefully encouraging Phil up, smiling into the kiss and he broke the kiss with a grin. “Not at work,” Phil finished.

“How come I can’t blow your mind? That is very, very, unfair,” Clint stated, even as he released the tie, smoothing it down against Phil’s chest.

“Because I am just that good,” Phil responded calmly and Clint laughed. He then climbed up into the vent and headed off.

“Don’t torment my Cygnets!” Phil called after him and Clint pretended that he hadn’t heard him.

* * *

Clint was relaxing in one of the vents when he heard the sound of a group of Junior Agents enter. He knew they were Junior Agents because they were loud and laughing.

Senior Agents didn’t do that.

“God, what stick is wedged up his ass?” one of them muttered and another snickered.

“Knock it off with the double meanings. His preference has nothing to do with his capability in the field. It’s the same thing; if someone makes it to RED, they got there for a reason,” one of the women, the one that had come to Phil, snapped.

“Shut up Fag Hag!” another girl snapped and Clint immediately felt his defenses snap up.

There was more said and Clint began to carefully make his way to look into the break room. The woman who had stood up for Phil was standing stiffly against the wall, but wasn’t leaving. Probably because she knew that life wasn’t fair and she might have to work with these people later, but she obviously didn’t want to be in that room, listening to what they kept saying about a SHIELD operative, though some seemed to be just going with the flow.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that they were talking about Phil.

They were making remarks, derogatory remarks, about _his_ Phil, and they cleared up any confusion when one of them used his name before being shushed by the others.

They would _not_ be allowed to get away with this.

He didn’t bother with subtlety as he kicked out the vent and dropped in.

The dead silence that greeted him filled him with a sick glee. “Who started these talks?” he demanded, only to be met with fearful silence and stone still people.

“Who gives a fuck, it doesn’t matter. Who the _hell_ do you all think you are, disrespecting Phil like that? Who the _hell_ do you think you are to disrespect the man who, if you die, because in this business the likelihood of you reaching retirement is zip to none, seriously, our death rates are frightening, getting to Fury’s age is a fucking miracle, but I’ve been told to be positive, to not say when, so _if_ , which basically means _when_ , you die, you know what Phil will do? When he’s done _everything_ , and I mean everything, to keep you as safe as possible, to make sure that, if you don’t make it to retirement whole, you at least make it alive, to do everything he can to _bring you back here_ , do you know what he will do when he feels like _he failed_? Even if it was one of you eating your gun? He will mourn you. He will remember your names, and your personalities, he will _remember_ the people he trained, and the people he would have _died_ to protect. He will remember the people that the recruiters just know by file and he will mourn you even when you deserve to be forgotten and wonder _what he did wrong_. Not where _you_ went wrong, but where _he_ did, even when there was nothing he could have done to change what happened, such as the choice to eat your own gun. _That_ is the man you are disrespecting. That is the man who you look down upon because he happens to be gay. And he’ll do this with all of you, because, God help him, he _cares_ about you. And the next person to disrespect him will find that hell would be a _vacation_ compared to what I will do to you, do you understand me?” Clint stated, his voice cold and harsh.

One of the guys snorted, though the rest still seemed paralyzed. “What will you do to us? Everyone _else_ may be scared of you, but I find it hard to be scared of a love-starved fa-” the guy began to snarl when Phil’s voice cut in with a simple, “Finish that sentence, Junior Agent Pearson and I will not be as restrained as Barton in not causing irreparable harm to your person.”

The Junior Agents (they did not deserve the title of Cygnets, but they would be anyway) all jumped, but Clint just turned to look back at Phil, who was walking calmly in. “Agent Hill has requested taking over your training. I was going to decline, but decided that I should leave it up to you. Realize that, as your choice, you must learn to live with it,” Phil stated.

He placed the files on the table and said, “Barton, with me.”

Clint hesitated, but followed.

No one said a word and no one followed them.

No one stopped them either as they returned to Phil’s office.

“Does that happen often?” Clint questioned softly.

“Narrow minded individuals?” Phil asked quietly.

“Them saying things like that. Disliking the fact you are gay is one thing, disrespecting you is another,” Clint bit out.

“Occasionally. Maria has been practically _begging_ Fury to allow her to take over their training. I believe they will have the proper respect for all authority figures in the future,” Phil answered softly and didn’t even twitch as Clint’s hand slammed down on the desk.

“They have no right to do that,” Clint snapped.

Phil raised an eyebrow and gently bopped Clint on the head with files. “They have every right to have their own opinion and express it. You’ll just make it worse trying to wrestle it away from them,” Phil corrected softly, much to Clint’s surprise.

He stared at his husband and suddenly walked around, hugging him tightly. Phil made a surprised noise and Clint buried his head against Phil’s neck. “I would have made it a bow and arrow and shot them through the knees,” Clint admitted softly.

“I know. Have I said ‘thank you’ for standing up for me?” Phil murmured.

“No,” Clint muttered.

“Thank you for standing up for me Clint.”

“No need to thank me Phil.”

They stood there for awhile and Clint smiled as he heard Phil whisper, “I love you.”

“Love you too Phil.”

It didn’t make it better, but Clint was already planning vengeance.

He wondered if Maria would let him take over the Junior Agents’ sniper detection training.

He was pretty sure her answer would be, now and for always, ‘yes.’

Especially in regards to _these_ morons.

**Author's Note:**

> I now wish to scrub myself with scalding water for the mindset I had to put myself in to write what I had to write.
> 
> On a semi-related note, I have broken down the word 'homophobia.'
> 
> Homo means 'same.'
> 
> Phobia means 'fear of.'
> 
> Translated directly, this means that someone has a fear of things that are the same.
> 
> So...does this mean they have to wear mismatched socks that are different lengths?
> 
> How do they even function?
> 
> Yes, that is where my brain goes every time I hear the word 'homophobia.'


End file.
